Carbon paper

The most unintentionally hilarious conversation I’ve overheard takes place in a lawfirm, where I’m sure there are dozens of unintentionally hilarious conversations due to lawyers and legal secretaries being driven completely insane by the sheer tediousness and horrifying monotony of their jobs. Then again, my mother works for a lawfirm and knows I have this blog, so maybe I should just shut the hell up. Alternatively, I could just say: Hi Mom!

The conversation happened next to a copy machine, where two lawyers or other similarly socially doomed law-people stood clutching the fresh copies the machine had so willingly produced for them. Then they proceeded to talk about copying in general, and how much better copying machines were in the old days. Apparently, there was something nostalgic and altogether magical about the use of carbon paper, an experience current generations miss using modern-day copy machines.

As they reminisced about carbon paper and the oniony feel it used to have, they dragged another co-worker into the conversation just by asking, “Do you remember carbon paper?” And oh, yes, certainly the man did; he remembered it well, the way freshly made copies of paperwork used to smell. They all concluded that the familiar odor was missing these days, and that hardly any scent at all wafted from the new copies they held in their hands.

I can only hope that, as I grow older, I’ll be able to remember more about these days than the smell of, say, a new video game instruction manual, or the sound my printer makes. And if I am so afflicted with memory loss in the future, here’s hoping that I, at least, won’t be able to find people to empathize with my nostalgic memories within a ten-yard radius.